


Paper Doves in Flight

by MaltaAndThe7Cats



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence being brave, First Kiss, Grindelwald is a creep, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Protective Original Percival Graves, Protective Tina Goldstein, Religious Guilt, a little Fluff hopefully, they spend a lot of time in that stupid alley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17347010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaltaAndThe7Cats/pseuds/MaltaAndThe7Cats
Summary: "There's still time. You can back out if you want. You don't have to put yourself at risk. I can call another auror to do this." This is the third time in as many days that Percival has given Credence this choice. This really is their only shot but if Credence is even the slightest bit scared, he's pulling the broom out from under the whole thing. He'll not risk his safety or his trust.---------------------------------------------------When Grindelwald's attempt  to infultrate MACUSA fails, Percival and Tina go behind MACUSA's back to attempt to track him. They enlist Credence's help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for reading! I've been sitting on this little story for almost a year, it's high time I published it.
> 
> I hope to have the second part up in the next couple of days.

He arrived to the rendezvous point panting and slightly out of breath and, embarrassingly, nearly loosing his balance. As he briefly scans the alley, he attempts to compose himself. He knows he's early, but he couldn't stay at his empty home any more and the office was getting suspicious. The Director doesn’t linger during lunch breaks.

 

He wouldn't admit that he was nervous. He doesn't get nervous, but he couldn't keep his hand still as he stands there and waits. He continuously thumbed at the objects in his pocket, no matter how he tried to quit.

 

He refused to abandon his auror training and give in to looking back and forth as though a shady business deal was going down, but he’s nearing that stage. Today is urgent, and every second is critical to the success of the plan.

 

He walked, albeit slowly and with a cane, to the end of the alley and then to the other side. Still no sign of him. They had a few minutes yet but he needs something to keep himself occupied. He makes his way carefully back to the agreed point.

 

“Any minute now.” He mumbles quietly to himself.

 

If this was routine, if it were just him and his team of aurors, he wouldn't be so unrestful. But involving Credence, a newly discovered wizard with no training, no auror experience, no wand and no basic knowledge of magic whatsoever . . . It's a risky move.

 

It took a solid week to convince Goldstein to go along with it. Three days to wait out her rantings and truculent attitude, (The only auror in his division that he allows to get away with such behavior) and four days to go over and over every detail until she begrudgingly agreed to it. If, and _only_ if, Credence’s safety could be assured.

 

That's their job, protect Credence if necessary while he carries out the mission. They can do this. They have to. There's no other option.

 

Finally he hears the familiar footsteps growing in volume. Before he's in sight, Percival swiftly hides the cane behind himself by leaning it precariously on the building wall. He adjusts his feet into a stance he should be able to tolerate for a bit and straightens himself to his full height.

 

He won't let on that he's worried or that his body aches and his calf has been screaming at him for the past thirty minutes to sit and take the weight off of it. He needs to be the picture of confidence. He needs to be strong.

 

For him.

 

“Credence.” He states simply when the young man is in sight.

 

“Hello Mr. Graves. I came at the correct time.” Credence greets, nervously rotating the brim of his hat in his hands.

 

“Yes, thank you, Credence. You're always reliable.” Credence ducks his head a bit to hide the blush.

 

He looks so fragile, like one strong breeze or a single cruel phrase from Percival’s lips could crumble him like dry leaves. But that's just a ruse. Though it’s a good one.

 

Standing here now all anyone would see is a pale and boney boy, always hungry and always cold, always hesitant and flighty. So eager to please and meet approval. Always worried about making mistakes or not making the right decision, i.e. what someone else would want regardless of his own needs. None of it is the truth of what lies beneath.

 

The poor boy’s fooled even himself.

 

Percival shakes his head.

 

He still can't believe that this young man--not a boy, he has to correct himself--a _man_ has been able to contain a parasite of raw magic for so long. He must be far stronger than anyone around him could possibly imagine.

 

Not just as a wizard, but as a person who's suffered so greatly. Despite all the pain, abuse and rejection he can still carry on, and with that thing feeding off of his very core.

He can't even imagine. He probably wouldn't have lasted a year as a child. There's no doubt Credence is more powerful than him.

He's more powerful than Grindelwald, and that's a frightening yet exhilarating thought.

 

He will only admit it to himself, but Percival is in awe of this young man.

 

“There's still time. You can back out if you want. You don't have to put yourself at risk. I can call another auror to do this.”

 

This is the third time in as many days that Percival has given Credence this choice. This really is their only shot but if Credence is even the slightest bit scared, he's pulling the broom out from under the whole thing. He'll not risk his safety or his trust.

 

“You said he knows who you are. That he's been watching all of you . . .” Credence pauses to remember the word, “. . . all you aurors.”

 

He's been doing more than watching.

 

Percival glances behind him to make sure the cane hasn't fallen in the trash pile next to it.

 

“You said he would see right through a dis-disillusionment charm.” He states, fumbling over the new word in his vocabulary.

 

“You said he may have already infiltrated MACUSA.” Credence looks him in the eyes, “You said there was no other way.”

 

Credence squeezes his hat tight.

 

“I can do this, sir.” He says determinately. “Give me a chance. I'll prove to you that I'm worthy of joining your world.”

 

Percival is taken back a moment.

 

“Proving?” He asks. “Credence, when did anyone ever say you needed to prove yourself worthy? You're a wizard! End of story. That alone means you're worthy to be amongst us. You were supposed to grow up in the wizarding world. You slipping through the cracks, that should never have happened.”

 

“Oh,” Is how Credence responds.

 

He contemplates this, fumbling with that horrid puritan hat of his again. He looks up hesitantly through his thick lashes.

 

“But if, . . .” He starts. Percival waits but he doesn't continue.

 

Percival takes a step forward and, oh, that was a bad idea. He really needs that cane. He tries to cover the limp as best he can but it seems Credence is too busy thinking to notice.

 

“Go on.” Percival encourages.

 

“If I'm worthy, then . . . why haven't you taken me there yet?” He asks in a whisper. He dares a glance up to Percival’s eyes as he waits to know his fate.

 

“I would like to take you there now. It's just, the obscurus . . .” Percival half answers.

 

He’s not good at explaining things in a gentle manner. Years as the head Director have left him proficient in bluntness and not much else.

 

There’s a lot that Credence doesn’t know. A lot that Graves isn’t telling him.

 

Drawing attention to Credence/the obscurus would put him in jeopardy. It wouldn’t be easy for him or Goldstein to suddenly harbor an unregistered adult wizard with no wand or history of education in their home. And nobody is going to buy a ‘My Distant Cousin from Overseas Surprise Visit’ story. They need to lay low for now. Anyone could be watching them.

 

“Oh.” Credence responds again. He looks dejected.

 

“You're afraid I'm going to hurt someone. I understand. I know I'm dangerous. I know I’m a . . . a freak. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me.” He shrinks into himself, crushing the sturdy brim of his hat even further.

 

“No Credence! That's not it at all! Quite the opposite. I'm afraid someone might hurt you.” Percival rushes his response before he mucks this up more. He places a reassuring hand on his arm. Credence looks up fully.

 

“Someone might hurt me?” He asks.

 

“Yes Credence. It's not just Grindelwald I'm worried about. If MACUSA found out what you are, who you are, they wouldn't be so welcoming. The obscurial is chaotic, unpredictable and worse, uncontrollable. At least not by anyone besides yourself. MACUSA doesn't like what it can't control. They could lock you up. Mercy Lewis, they might even study you like a lab rat.”

 

Or they'll just decide to execute him to be on the safe side and Percival himself would be expected to carry out the order. He won't do that. Not ever. He knows he's breaking about half a dozen laws by keeping Credence hidden. Each one would have him fired, stripped of title, jailed and blocked from ever holding a wand again. Goldstein too. But it's worth the risk. She was right. Credence is a special case.

 

“I know you're not happy here. I know that bluenose of a step-mother of yours is a tyrant. I'm tired of healing your wounds.” He takes another calculated and painful step forward, tightening his grip on Credence’s arm.

 

“I’m tired of drying your tears.” He whispers as he softly reaches with his other hand to trace a thumb along the dry path where he's witnessed so many fall.

 

Credence closes his eyes reverently. He pushes his whole face into Percival’s hand. Brushing back and forth, desperate for the touch. Percival moves his hand upwards and begins petting him slowly from crown to jaw until Credence slumps into an embrace. His weight is putting more stress on Percival’s leg but he won't dare deny Credence this. He'd hold him for the rest of the day if they didn't have such pressing matters.

 

“The truth is, for the meantime, you're safer where you are.” He pushes back just enough so his words ghost over Credence’s skin.

 

“Hold on for me. Just a little while longer. I'll figure something out. I promise. Do you believe me?”

 

“Yes.” Credence says, his eyes are closed as he revels in their shared intimacy.

 

“Do you trust me, Credence?” Percival needs to know. He needs to hear Credence say it out loud.

 

He opens his eyes then, barely lifting his head from Percival’s shoulder. They're so close together their noses are almost touching. Credence’s dark gaze pierce him to his core.

 

“I trust you, Mr. Graves.”

 

 

And Percival believes him.

 

 

“Ok,” He says as he takes a step back, smoothing down Credence’s hair that he mused.

 

No more distractions. It's time.

 

“Here's the plan.”

 

Credence regains his composure somewhat and appears to mentally prepare himself for whatever Percival says next.

 

“This ring,” he pulls out a non sequential plain silver banded ring from his pocket,

 

“this isn't a ring at all. It a _persector_ , a tracking spell. It needs to come into contact with the intended target's skin. The wearer needs to touch them with it so it can be absorbed into their body. Once it's in their blood stream, we can track them with a twin ring.”

 

Percival pulls out a second ring from the same pocket, silver but with a strange red tinge to it, almost like rust though its surface is still smooth.

 

“We, Goldstein and I, know Grindelwald has been watching the Salem Church for some time. He believes the obscurial is one of the younger children. He's going to try to get closer to them. There's a very good chance he'll be at the rally today, but he'll be disguised. I'll be in this alley across the street. Goldstein will be in the building next to me on the third floor, watching from a window. I'll signal you when I spot him. All you have to do is hand him a flyer and make sure the ring comes into contact with his skin. The ring will do the rest and he won’t feel a thing.”

 

Credence puts his hat on and takes the ring carefully, examining it.

 

“Will it affect me at all?” He toys with it turning it this way and that.

 

“No, only him. You can wear it safely.”

 

“How does it know who's who? How does it know who to absorb into?” Credence tries it on different fingers to see which fits best.

 

“Because,” Percival hesitates.

 

What they’re about to do, the type of magic they’re going to use, is very illegal. Very. They can’t get caught. He didn’t tell Credence earlier because he didn’t want to upset him or worry him, but now he realizes that was a mistake. Goldstein was right. Again. He really shouldn’t be keeping this from Credence. He deserves to know what could happen to them should they fail or get discovered.

 

“Because it has his blood weaved into it. It won't work on anyone else."

 

Credence's eyes widen comically.

 

“Credence, I need you to understand that taking someone’s blood and using blood magic on their person without their consent is a crime punishable by imprisonment. Even on someone as nefarious as Grindelwald. Do understand that? This is very important. Remember what I said about MACUSA. Should they find out they will not be lenient.”

 

Credence tilts his head to the side and contemplates this for a moment.

 

“Mr. Graves,” he asks, “how did you get his blood?”

 

Percival takes a deep breath.

 

“I didn't give you all the details before, Credence. He did try to infiltrate MACUSA. But when that didn't go as he planned, he tried to kill us.”

 

Credence closes the gab between them and places his now ringed hands on Graves’ lapel as Percival stares off to the blankness of the alley walls.

 

“I lost six aurors, Credence. Six. He . . He's very powerful. We got lucky, very lucky that a spell grazed his arm and he lost some blood,”

 

It was Percival who got lucky, if you could call it luck.

 

He looks back towards Credence and places his hands over the boy’s.

 

“That's why I want you to be extra sure. He shouldn’t try anything here, not with all the non-maj. He's not ready to expose himself just yet. But if he knows he’s being watched, if he feels his back is to the wall, he might act irrationally. I don't want you or any of the children for that matter to get hurt.”

 

“Mr. Graves, did he hurt you?” Credence’s eyes bore in to him as the grip squeezes tight.

 

“I’m fine, Credence. What I need to know is if you’re fine, with all of this.”

 

“Yes.” He states quickly and confidently.

 

“I accept the possible consequences of my actions here today. I know this is dangerous and I know I could be punished if caught. I want to do this. I . . . I want to help you stop him.”

 

Percival looks for any hesitance in Credence’s eyes. Finding none, he nods once.

 

“Thank you Credence.” He takes his shoulder and turns him towards the street.

 

“We need to get into position soon. I need you to go to your spot next to the podium. After Mary Lou’s speech, hand out your flyers as usual. Keep your eye out for me, I’ll signal you when I determine who he is. Go up to him, hand him a flyer and make sure the ring touches is his skin.”

 

“But what if he doesn’t take the pamphlet?” Credence asks as they walk slowly, Mr. Graves’ hand a heavy weight on his shoulder.

 

Percival stops him then.

 

“Don’t do anything rash, Credence. If he doesn’t take it, he doesn’t take it. Come back to me with the ring as soon as you can and we’ll think of something else.” He encourages them to walk once more.

 

“I don’t want you hurt.” He almost mumbles to himself.

 

“But—”

 

“No buts Credence, it’s time. I need you across the street.” He gives the young man a gentle push and hopes he takes the hint.

 

Credence looks back once, he opens his mouth to speak but the stern look on Graves’ face makes him think otherwise. And he resumes his path across the busy road to the building’s stairs.

 

Once he’s out of sight, Graves pushes out a heavy sigh and bends ninety degrees to grab his good knee and steady himself. He takes a couple steps to the building side with his arm flailing for purchase to keep from landing flat on the pissed covered alley. He should have brought a pain potion with him but he’s already taken too much of the stuff. Any more and the healers will force him to be bedridden like they already tried.

 

He takes heaving breaths through the pain and then straightens himself. Reaching into his inner coat pocket he pulls out his wand.

 

“ _Accio cane_!” It swats into his waiting palm and he turns to follow Credence’s path to the mouth of the alley when,

 

“Mr. Graves!” Credence is running back towards him.

 

“Credence? We don’t have time for this! You need to get into position!” Percival turns his body so the bad leg and cane are hidden.

 

“You have a cane! You’re hurt! When did this happened?”

 

Lewis, he saw.

 

His hands are roaming over Graves’ shoulders and chest and then intimately down to his legs, eyes frantically searching for any hidden injury.

 

“Credence, please. You have to get into place. Now! I’ll explain everything later.”

 

 

“No.”

 

 

And that gives Graves pause. This is a word foreign to Credence’s vocabulary.

 

“You lied to me. You said you were fine. I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened. What did he do to you?”

 

There’s a hardness and determination that Percival has never seen on the young man’s face before, but one he’s seen looking back at himself in the mirror many times. He may be flustered at the untimeliness of this conversation, but he’s also a bit proud of Credence for not backing down. So he resigns.

 

“When Grindelwald attacked us, his spells were strong. Hard to deflect or counter, nearly impossible to block. I was careless. I was trying match my spell to another aurors, to hit him hard while I thought he was distracted. But he was ready for it. I couldn’t dodge, I couldn’t stop my own spell in time. All I could do was try to deflect it and turn my body so no major organs were hit. Instead he got my leg.”

 

And nearly severed it.

 

Percival was knocked flat on the ground and couldn’t asses the damage. He knew it was bad. Couldn’t move his foot, couldn’t feel anything at all save for the excruciating pain. The healers told him an inch of skin was the only thing keeping it attached. But in that moment, Grindelwald dropped his attention from Graves to the remaining aurors and Graves took his chance. He got Grindelwald on the arm deep enough that he bleed on the ground shortly before taking the last of them out and apparating away.

 

Percival hangs the cane in the crook of his arm and places both hands on Credence’s shoulders.

 

“Credence, now’s not the time to worry. I’m fine, I assure you. We’ll talk about this later. I just don’t want you to be scared.”

 

“I’m not scared.” Credence states with firmness.

 

“We’re going to succeed today, Mr. Graves.” He puts his own hands on Percival’s waist and stands to his full height. Percival has to hold his chin high to meet the gaze. He never realized Credence is taller than him. Then he leans in as close as he dares and looks Percival square in the eyes. Graves holds his breath.

 

“And he’s never going to hurt you ever again.”

 

 

And Percival believes him.

 

 

He pats Credence a couple times and brings the cane down again. Credence makes his way back to the alley entrance, but this time he’s insistent Percival accompany him. He doesn’t let go of Percival’s arm until the last few feet when they slow their pace and Percival gives him a reassuring nod to continue.

 

“It’s going to be alright Mr. Graves. You’ll see. I won't let you down.”

 

And with that, he crosses the street.

 

Percival breaths out that lung full of air he didn’t realize he was holding and watches the resoluteness of Credence’s back as he ascends the stairs to the front of the non-maj bank.

 

He continues to watch as there’s a displacement of air and Goldstein appears next to him.

 

“Where’s Credence? Is he ready?” she asks breathlessly.

 

She must have just come from MACCUA. They’ve been apparating away from there via circuitous routes in the event that they may be followed. It’s a bit exhausting but a necessary precaution.

 

“He’s there.” Percival points.

 

“I still think this is a bad idea.” She says.

 

“Too late now. I don’t think I could talk Credence out of it anyway. He’s determined.”

 

She looks at him inquisitively.

 

“I’m not sure what just happened but Credence suddenly found some new confidence. He’s assured me he can do this.” He turns to her.

 

“I believe him. He’ll be alright. And besides, he has us keeping his back.”

 

Goldstein sighs in defeat. They’ve been over all this already. She knows arguing now would only distract them from protecting Credence.

 

“Right. I’ll get into position. Stay in communication with me?” She points her wand at a spot just behind her ear and Graves mimics the move. A faint blue dot glows on both their skin at the spot and then she apparats away.

 

_“Pesky pixies perch precariously on pansy petals.”_

 

Graves hears her voice clearly from three stories above as though she’s speaking them directly into his ear. He snorts at the first year Ilvermorny tongue twister that she always uses to test this spell.

 

“I can hear you, Goldstein.” He says flatly.

 

He casts the strongest concealment charms he knows, leaving a small gap that allows Credence to view him and waits.

 

_“Ok, I’m at the window. I can see the whole block from up here.”_

 

“Excellent.” He responds.

 

By now the banners and podium are up and waiting for the leader of the New Salem Philanthropic Society to take her place. The few children that were brought along to do all the set up and hand out flyers at the end of her speech, stand all in a stoic row with Credence and his sister last.

 

His head is bowed with his hands clasped in front of him. He looks nothing like the young man boring his dark eyes into Graves’ sole moments before.

 

 _“Here she comes.”_ Goldstein announces Mary Lou’s entrance with distaste dripping from every word.

 

Mary Lou is in a particularly lively mood today and her speech carries on longer than average. But it affords Graves time to scan the crowd.

 

Twenty minutes in, and still no sign of him. He has to be careful what revealing spells he uses, Grindelwald would more than likely be prepared for them or any other spell for that matter.

 

Credence too scans the crowd from his slightly elevated position on the building stairs. He’s good at not being seen. Good at blending in. He watches, no one pays him any mind.

 

There’s some familiar faces. The small clump of ma’s followers that attend most of her rallies. Everyone else are just curious bystanders that have stopped long enough to inspect the gathering.

 

But then he sees it.

 

A man to his right, standing still amongst a cluster of business men on their lunch break. He’s wearing a dark suit and woolen coat and hat like the rest. His hair is black, his face is plain and void of any outstanding features. But Credence can’t deny the _wrong wrong wrong_ coming off of this man.

 

It’s him. There’s no doubt.

 

He looks again to Mr. Graves. He’s shaking his head ‘no’.

 

Then they can’t see him, can’t detect him for some reason. Their spells aren’t working.

 

Credence fixes Mr. Graves with a look he hopes he comprehends.

 

 _It’s him_ , he tries to convey.

 

He flicks his eyes to the business men. And back, and watches as understanding lights up Mr. Graves’s face. His wand moves to his neck and Credence can tell he and miss Tina are communicating. He glances up in time to witness the same clarity reach Tina’s face.

 

Credence looks back to the rally and calmly waits.

 

As ma’s speech continues, Grindelwald slowly moves through the crowd in a seeming casual way but he’s got a clear destination at the foot of the stairs. Directly in front of him, and Modesty.

 

And when his gaze rested upon them, Credence saw a double set of eyes. A unsuspecting pair of deep browns overshadowing two opposing colors. Their starkness sucking Credence into their center and for a moment he lost himself.

 

There must be some sort of a charm covering the first pair with the plainness of the second. Some sort of an illusion to hide what would no doubt be a clear giveaway to his person hiding behind the dullness of non-maj masquerade.

 

At the same moment, Modesty takes Credence’s hand and squeezes. She never reached for him in public before. Wouldn’t dare due to ma’s punishment. But something has her spooked. And he realizes that she feels it too.

 

He squeezes her back and looks down to her as she looks up.

 

Their unspoken sibling language pass between them.

 

 _I know,_ he says. _I feel it too. I’m right here. It’ll be ok_.

 

And he holds her hand tight through the rest of the speech.

 

When the end finally comes, Credence takes a single moment to prepare himself and then he begins to descend the stairs with Modesty in tow. One final squeeze and he releases her so they can carry out their task.

 

He skirts by Grindelwald keeping him on his left and keeping Modesty on his right as he hands a flyer to another man, and then to several others. All the while Grindelwald doesn’t move much. He seems interested in this thing or that but Credence can tell he’s just biding his time.

 

He never once dares a glace at the alley beyond.

 

Credence continues to fain interest in him over the rest of the crowd when it is Grindelwald himself who makes the first move.

 

He approaches them with an appropriate complacent smile and then extends that smile to Modesty.

 

“Hello Little One.” He purrs.

 

“Hello sir.” She automatically responds, the politeness that’s been drilled in to them outweighing her fear.

 

“My how well behaved and polite you all are. Your mother must be very proud of that, and that you are so helpful in aiding her in this most important work that she and her church are doing for the community. Do you and your . . . brother?”

 

when no confirmation comes from either of the siblings he continues on as though no slight had been made,

 

“help your mother at every rally?”

 

Modesty does not respond quickly and Credence takes the opportunity to seat himself in the conversation.

 

“Yes sir. We do.”

 

 

This is it.

 

 

This is the moment Credence has been waiting for.

 

He gathers every bit of courage he has and extends a hand and wills the paper to cease its tremors that reveal Credence’s fear.

 

“Won’t you come join us this Sunday at our next meeting?”

 

Grindelwald never once glances at the paper but rather filters his double gaze once more towards Modesty and then back to Credence.

 

“Why of course, son. I would love to become more acquainted with you and your noble cause.”

 

His arm leaves his side and the sleeve rides back as Grindelwald grasps the pamphlet.

 

 

He’s wearing gloves.

 

 

The leather material skirts over Credence’s hand as Grindelwald pulls the paper from his clamped fingers.

 

 

The ring remains.

 

 

“Thank you, son.” He says as he retreats.

 

“I hope to see you again soon. And you too, Little One.” He waves to Modesty and turns to the last remaining stairs above the street.


	2. Chapter 2

No.

 

No, this isn’t supposed to happen this way! What does he do? He shoots a frantic look towards Mr. Graves who can already tell something’s gone amiss. He’s shaking his head vigorously.

 

_No_ , he mouths. _Don’t. Not worth it. Abort. Abort_!

 

He looks at Grindelwald, who’s back is now facing them as he reaches the last step and begins to join the crowded sidewalk. Soon he’ll blend into their multitude and be lost in a sea of dark coats and hats.

 

He knows they’ll never have this chance again. He’s not waiting to see if Grindelwald might come to the church. He doesn’t even know if the opportunity to touch him will present itself there. Or, what if he does come there and simply kidnaps Modesty! He’s obviously interested in her. He doesn’t want this man anywhere near there or her ever again.

 

He hurt Mr. Graves.

 

Tried to kill Mr. Graves.

 

He killed other people, multiple times. He’s wanted in several countries. Credence has a chance to help catch him. To stop him once and for all and he’s going to succeed.

  
He’s legs are propelling him down the steps before his brain has a chance to catch up.

 

“Sir! I forgot! There’s another rally this Thursday that perhaps you’d like to attend.”

 

There’s no rally this Thursday. Credence is just spewing gibberish out his mouth. Anything to get Grindelwald to stop long enough while he tries to think of other reasons to keep him there. When an idea hits him all at once and he charges forward with more momentum.

 

“If I could just have another minute of your time!” He states with his arm raised in a halt. Grindelwald turns around at that.

 

He pretends to miss the last step as he reaches for Grindelwald and falls right into him violently enough to knock them both down. His flyers scatter everywhere as the crowd disperses to avoid the collision.

 

Grindelwald inspects himself for damage while Credence continues to flail clumsily over him.

 

“Oh sir! I’m so sorry! Please forgive me! Allow me!” He rambles as his hands roam over Grindelwald’s body, feigning concern, searching for any chink in his non-maj armor.

 

There’s a fraction of a moment, a flash of something unhinged in Grindelwald’s mask that rights itself when the smooth timber of his voice intones,

 

“Its quite alright, young man.” He pats himself a few more times and attempts to rise as Credence struggles to keep him there.

“Please sir, let me help you. It’s the least I can do.”

 

There must be an opening in his clothes somewhere. He brushes his hands along both gloved hands to try and reach Grindalwald’s wrists but the man is pulling away to place them on the ground to lift himself.

 

“Don’t worry yourself too much. We all have accidents.” His reassuring tone convincing enough and the people around them loose interest in the spectacle and begin on their way.

 

Now fully erect and wiping down his coat sleeves for invisible dirt, Credence watches and realizes he’s running out of time.

 

“There must be something I can do, I fell terrible. Here!” He states as he swoops for a fallen pamphlet and steps as close into Grindalwald’s space as he can to hand him the flyer. All while searching for some opportunity.

 

“No need, son. I still have the one you gave me.” And he pats his coat pocket as proof.

 

Time is running out again and Credence searches his mind for one more trick when the chill November air hits his head. He’s lost his hat in the fall.

 

And so did Grindelwald.

 

“Your hat, sir!” Credence announces. They both turn as one to spot the fedora, newly trampled, on the pavement to their side. They reach for it simultaneously but Credence is faster, and he snatches it to his chest. Grindelwald makes a grab for it, but Credence stretches his arm to it’s full height, out of Grindalwald’s grasp.

 

“Thank you, son—” he begins but Credence plummets the hat down onto his head firmly enough to be jarring.

 

“Allow me sir!” and as Credence wiggles it tautly in place, he grazes his ringed finger along the outermost edge of Grindalwald’s ear.

 

The silver liquidizing and seeping out of sight, as though it was never there at all.

 

Grindelwald clears his throat, makes an appropriate good-bye and slips into the throng.

 

The roar of people chatting, cars zooming by and the distant rumble of industry come flooding back to Credence like he had been in a bubble. As if time itself had stood still.

 

He lifts his shaking hand and splays his fingers wide.

 

It worked.

 

His hand is bare.

 

He looks to the alley, shocked but triumphant.

 

Mr. Graves just looks shocked. He’s standing with his mouth agape and wand almost forgotten at his side. Miss Tina has hers to her neck, furiously speaking.

 

“Credence. Credence!” His attention is torn from the alley to his ma who is fast approaching.

 

“Foolish boy!” She hisses. “you might have cost us another follower. I want you to remain behind and pick up the pamphlets you dropped, they cost us money. Everyone of them! And don’t come back home until you’ve handed them all out. Do you hear me?”

 

He expected as much from her. She will no doubt have more chores for him when he arrives home, or . . . she may have something else in mind.

 

Credence looks his ma up and down. She’s a fraction of his size, with mousy features and no jaw to speak of protruding from a consignment coat that was already worn down when she purchased it.

 

And Credence finds that perhaps, for the very fist time, he’s not as frightened of her as he used to be.

 

“Yes ma.” He responds with as much humility as he can fake.

 

She turns and directs the other children to dismantle everything. Once she’s distracted, Modesty crouches to momentarily help her brother collect the fallen papers.

 

“Credence,” she whispers. “Are you alright? Who was that horrible man? Did he do that to you?”

 

“No, Modesty. I fell but I’m fine.”

 

“There was something wrong with him! He made me feel . . . I don’t know but he scared me.”

 

“I know. He was a bad man. Remember the nice people I told you about, Mr. Graves and Miss Tina?”

 

She nods.

 

“They’re trying to catch him and I’m helping them.”

 

Then curiosity makes him ask, “Modesty, did he look strange to you? Did you see anything odd about his eyes or face?”

 

She thinks for a moment. “No, just that he felt evil.”

 

“Modesty! Don’t help him! It’s time to go!” Mary Lou announces.

 

“Go on. I’ll explain more later.” He tells her worried face. “My friends are watching me from across the street. I’m safe. I’ll meet with them, and then I’ll be home. I promise.”

 

She knows she can’t delay with ma impatiently waiting and so she reluctantly retreats with the rest of the orphan children.

 

Credence does as he was told. He picks up every fallen pamphlet, even the trampled ones. It gives him time as the remaining people dwindle and thin and it ensures ma’s firm departure. It also gives him time to collect his nerves.

 

He did it!

 

He can’t wait to see Mr. Graves. He hopes he will be proud. He hopes this will be enough.

 

Maybe, . . . maybe something more will come of this. He’s not sure what that entails. Maybe Mr. Graves will find it in is heart to take Credence with him after all? Maybe he’ll be so impressed he’ll insist Credence needs wizard training. Maybe he’ll give him his own wand! And Miss Tina can teach him things and he’ll meet all sorts of other witches and wizards like him and he’ll finally belong somewhere.

 

But this is all speculation. He needs to calm himself. He’s almost done, and then he’ll go to the original meeting point and talk with Mr. Graves before heading home.

 

Percival retreats to the heart of the alley and paces back and forth on his hobbled leg, completely oblivious to his former discomfort. He’s still reeling from what just happened.

 

He almost forgets entirely about the twin ring, and hurries to place it on a his finger to test it. He watches as the crimson churns and then recedes leaving the plain silver in its wake.

 

A strange sensation overtakes him like an additional warmth spreading through his veins. It takes Percival a moment but he realizes, it’s a heart beat. Grindelwald’s heart beat.

 

And the longer he wears it, the clearer things become. He can _feel_ Grindelwald. He can feel his pulse and his breath entering his lungs. He can feel him like he can feel his own body. It’s odd but fascinating.

 

And he can feel his movements. Somehow, Graves just _knows_ where Gindelwald is. He’s currently disapparating in and out of spaces. Moving across the earth faster than any wizard has the right to without a portkey.

 

In mere minutes he’s in up state New York at a non-maj home that’s either been abandoned or taken.

 

Percival can almost see it, can actually sense the carpet under his own feet and the warmth from a recently lit fireplace. He has to remind himself that he’s still in the alley waiting for Goldstein and Credence to meet with him.

 

He wipes his hand on his mouth and huffs to himself.

 

He did it.

 

Goblin dicks, Credence did it.

 

He’s still not exactly sure what transpired. Once Credence reached the bottom of the stairs, he was lost to Percival’s view and Goldstein could only see so much from her vantage point through the people who had gathered.

 

And when they went down together, for a horrifying moment Graves feared the worst. He almost left the purlieus of his concealment spells. If Goldstein hadn’t quite literally been the voice of reason in his ear he would have done just that, wand blazing to come to Credence’s rescue.

 

He was more than relieved when they both resurfaced from the fall unscathed, Credence appearing to apologize over and over. And then, the boy simply put Grindelwald’s hat on his head and sent him on his merry way!

 

By Merlin’s ass! He deliberately created the accident so he could get close to Grindelwald and touch him.

 

That was brilliant! Reckless but brilliant.

 

Ok. One thing is clear, this is the first and last time he’s ever putting Credence in harms way again. Ever. And he needs training. Now. He needs to know how to properly defend himself. No more taking chances with his life. What had he been thinking?

 

There’s a pop, and Percival is getting accosted by Tina and the palm of her hand.

 

“What had you been thinking?!” She shouts as he blocks her rebound with his forearm.

 

“This was the dumbest, riskiest idea you ever came up with! Why in all of fairy fuckdom did I go along with it?!”

 

Goldstein rarely cusses so he knows she means business. That, and she’s assaulting her boss.

 

“He wasn’t supposed to pursue!” Percival counters as he dodges another attempt at a slap. “I gave him clear directions not to do anything but hand him a flyer! He wasn’t supposed to do any of that!”

 

“Well he did!”

 

She continues her swatting for another minute, Graves merely ducking and blocking. Her heart’s not really in it. If she was really pissed, she’d definitely hex him. He knows she’s just letting off steam. This is not the riskiest nor the dumbest idea he’s ever come up with. She’s upset because she has a soft spot for Credence too.

 

“I don’t want to see him hurt either Goldstein! He knew the risks and look! He’s fine! It all turned out fine! The ring works!”

 

She stops mid-strike to stare at his hand. He extends it to her.

 

“It works?” she asks.

 

It looks so ordinary. Just a silver band. They both hover over it in awe, neither one having any dealings with blood magic until now. Graves could have used his authority to get access to MACUSA’s archives to study it more but that would have left a paper trail. So all this had been theoretical based on some loose knowledge found in books from Graves’ personal estate.

 

“With this we can have the upper hand. With this, we can track his movements, get a pattern, find out who his followers are. We can be ready for him before he comes back again.”

 

“And we can protect Credence.” Goldstein states. Graves looks towards her.

 

“And we can protect Credence.” He agrees.

 

“Ok,” she relaxes and begins to back away. “Ok.” She repeats.

 

“I have to go. Some of us aren’t A level aurors and don’t get an hour lunch break.”

 

Graves raises and eyebrow.

 

“And I’m forty-five minutes late. I’ll have to explain myself to the _Director_ as soon as he comes back from his cushy hour lunch.” She glares at him.

 

“I’ll file an excuse as soon as I get back. I have to stay and talk to Credence first.”

 

“Make sure he’s going to be ok.” The ‘take care of Mary Lou too or I will’ was implied.

 

“I will.” He says.

 

Tina composes herself and gets ready to apparate.

 

“I still can’t believe we conspired to plant an illegal blood tracker on the world’s most notorious wizard with an adult obscurial behind MACUSAs back on our lunch break!” The words almost getting cut off with her abrupt departure and a sigh from her director follows her.

 

Graves removes the ring and places it in his inner most pocket for safe keeping. He stays behind and anxiously awaits Credence.

 

  
When the last of the flyers is in his hands, Credence impatience wins out and he decides it’s safe enough to leave the bank stairs and cross into the alley.

 

He walks for several feet eagerly searching but doesn’t spot Mr. Graves. He turns in place and is about to open his mouth to call when he’s enveloped in a mantle of black.

 

“Credence!”

 

Mr. Graves greets as he wraps the boy in a tight hug. He’s so relived and so happy to have the boy safe again that he wishes he had the strength to lift him and twirl him around.

 

And so he does.

 

“ _leviosa_!”

 

And Credence gasps as his feet easily leave the ground and he’s spinning in Mr. Graves’s embrace as they both laugh.

 

“You did it! You really did it, Credence! I’m so proud of you!”

 

They’re the words Credence had longed to hear and he nearly weeps. But he’s so happy they turn to giggles as he clutches onto Mr. Graves’ shoulders for dear life. He’s still laughing and reeling when he feels his feet touch the concreate again but Mr. Graves never lets go. His cane forgotten somewhere.

 

“That was a serious chance you took, my boy. You gave us quite a fright. Goldstein isn’t too happy with me right now.” He states, though he’s still smiling.

 

“I’m sorry, sir. But I couldn’t let him get away. I had to do something. This was our only chance.”

 

“I know, I know.” Graves says. He cups Credence’s face and gives him a gentle shake.

 

“But no more risks like that ever again, alright?” He crinkles his big eyebrows as he looks back and forth in Credence’s eyes. The young man nods and looks abashed.

 

“Alright.” He answers for the boy.

 

They’re still standing there. Graves still holding his head, reluctant to let go. They don’t say anything and Percival begins stroking at Credence’s jawline for something to do.

 

“Were you frightened?” He asks softly.

 

“A bit.” He responds eventually. It’s difficult to answer with Mr. Graves hand’s gently touching him again.

 

“Did . . . does the ring work then?” He asks for something to keep his mind occupied as Mr. Graves continues to caress him.

 

“Hmmm?” Mr. Graves responds. “Oh! The _persector_. Yes, it’s working. It’s amazing.” He states showing Credence the ring.

 

“When I wear it, I know exactly where he is. He's in the north part of the state, in Massena near the boarder. He’s no where near us right now.” He reassures Credence.

 

“Though, it disturbs me how quick and easily it was for him to shift there.”

 

“Is that something a wizard shouldn’t be able to do?”

 

Credence makes small talk but he’s keenly aware that his arms are still around Mr. Graves’ shoulders and that Mr. Graves hasn’t released him yet like he normally would do. Maybe if he stays distracted, they can stand like this for a little while longer and he won’t notice.

 

“Well, normally a witch or wizard would need a portkey or a few to go such a distance.”

 

“What’s a portkey?”

 

“An object that’s been enchanted so that when touched at the right place at the right time, it will transport you over large distances. You’ve seen me disapparate. That can only move me over a few blocks at a time and if you do it repeatedly, it can really exhaust you. Grindelwald just disapparated and apparated across the whole state in less than fifteen minutes.” Percival looks off as he tries to contemplate how that’s possible.

 

“I bet you could do it if you tried Mr. Graves.” Credence blushes as he toys with the back of Percival’s collar. The hand that still holds his pamphlets begins to wrinkle them with his sweaty palm.

 

Graves looks back at him surprised and then smiles sadly.

 

“No, my boy. I really couldn’t. But _you_ could.” He says, giving Credence’s face and neck a little squeeze once more.

 

“Me?”

 

“Oh yes. Of that, I have no doubt.”

 

Does Mr. Graves really think that? He’s not even a wizard yet. Not really.

 

“But . . . I don’t even know how to use a wand. I don’t even have a wand.” He realizes.

 

“Well, We’ll have to remedy that soon then, won’t we?” Mr. Graves smiles mischievously.

 

“Really?” Credence asks, awed.

 

“Mmm hmm.” Percival responds. He begins moving the frays of Credence’s hair from his brow with the tips of his fingers when it dawns on him.

 

“Where’s your hat?” he asks.

 

“I lost it.” Credence shyly whispers.

 

“Good.”

 

And Credence smile turns into a little laugh, and Mr. Graves is joining him.

 

“Oh,” he sighs as he brings the boy in for a hug again. Crushing him tight. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

 

Credence can’t say much of anything so he just rests his head on Mr. Graves shoulder, his favorite spot, and sighs.

 

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Credence.”

 

“Hmmm?” Credence gives the minimum response, not wanting to move any more than necessary.

 

“How did you know it was him? None of our reveling spells worked. We thought he wasn’t there at all until you pointed him out to us.”

 

“I’m . . . not exactly sure Mr. Graves.” Credence re lives the moment and tries to make words of how he felt.

 

“I just knew it was him. He felt off. Wrong. I knew that the person I was seeing was false and that there was something far uglier underneath.” He had always thought that if he ever meet the devil, that’s what it would feel like. So Credence just knew.

 

“Oh and his eyes were strange.”

 

His eyes.

 

Percival pushes Credence back by his shoulders. “His eyes? What about his eyes?”

 

“They were two contrasting, unnatural colors. One bright and the other the complete opposite. Though he had a pair of false ones covering them. I could still see the real pair. They were disturbing.”

 

Graves remembers.

 

Fascinating.

 

He could detect what professional aurors could not. Credence can, without wand or spell, see right through the most powerful wizard in the world.

 

This is bigger than he ever could have realized. Percival’s head begins to whirl with plans as he paces, cane suddenly swatting in his hand as he walks.

 

“Credence I think you’re going to need more than a wand. It’s high time we started training you. Right now, as soon as possible.”

 

“Mr. Graves, do you really mean that?”

 

“Absolutely. We can’t take chances like today anymore. We did what we did today out of desperation but that was the last time. You need to know how to protect yourself, you need to be prepared.”

 

He stops dead in front of Credence.

 

“And I take back what I said before. I don’t think this place is safe for you anymore. Here with the non-maj and nothing else. We still don’t understand why he wants an obscurial or for what but we’re not going to find out the hard way.”

 

He rushes Credence faster than a hobbled man should and grasps his face once more.

 

“And today is the last time he touches you.”

 

Credence is so overwhelmed he just stands there with his hands at his side.

 

It’s true, it’s really coming true. Mr. Graves is going to show him magic! Give him a wand and teach him. He’s going to take him away from this awful place! Away from ma!

 

But that would mean,

 

That would mean Modesty would be on her own. He couldn’t allow that. What if Mr. Graves says she can’t come along? Would he stay? Would he give this up for her? Give up ever seeing Mr. Graves ever again?

 

Sadly, he thinks, yes. He would. She’s just a little girl. She’d be all alone. He knows what that feels like. No one should have to feel that way. No one should have be there alone like he was when he was young.

 

Mr. Graves is a kind man. Maybe if Credence asks nicely and assures him that he will take care of her. Maybe she could come too? Even if she isn’t a witch.

 

“He thought it was Modesty.”

 

“What’s that, Credence?”

 

“He thinks Modesty is the oscurial.”

 

Mr. Graves looks concerned.

 

“She was scared of him.” He whispers.

 

“How was she scared, Credence? Did she say anything to you?”

 

“She held my hand and wouldn’t let go. She knew there was something different about him.”

 

“Could she see through his disguise?”

 

Credence shakes his head. “No, she only knew something was off. She said he was evil.”

 

So the girl might be magic too. Goldstein had suspected as much. It doesn’t surprise them that Mary Lou would knowingly take in more than one magical child.

 

The fucking bitch.

 

“So that means your sister is more than likely a witch too.” And to hear Mr. Graves say it, to have a wizard vocalize what Credence himself has always suspected, seals it for him.

 

“I think I’ve always known, sir.”

 

“I’m sure you did. Which means . . .,” he pauses for drama “that both of you will have to leave here.”

 

“What?” it slips out of Credence’s mouth.

 

“Both of you need to be kept safe. I’m taking you with me. Tonight. We’ll go back to the church and gather your things and your sister and then, I’ll take you home.”

 

He can’t believe he hears his own voice saying this. He doesn’t know how he’s going to pull this off. They’ll have to be sequestered in his home. They won't be able to leave but that can’t possibly be any worse than staying at that awful church. At least they’ll be warm and full.

 

“Home?” Credence asks hopefully.

 

“Yes, home Credence. My home. If that’s alright with you?” A little doubt creeping into Percival’s voice.

 

Credence is in his arms faster than he can register and pulls him so hard he almost lifts him.

 

“Careful! Careful!” He laughs.

 

“Oh, sorry sir!” Credence pulls back shyly.

 

“It’s alright.” He says, swiping his hand across the boy’s jawline.

 

“Shall we go get your sister now?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Ok. Oh, but first. Give me _those_.”

 

And Percival yanks the offensive literature from Credence’s hand and tosses them dramatically into the air where they turn into doves and take flight.

 

Credence is awed. He stretches out a hand to gingerly touch them as they fly around the two men in patterns. A few land and take off from his palm and one has made itself comfortable on the top of Mr. Graves’s head.

 

Credence can’t stop smiling.

 

He hugs Mr. Graves once more and he’s just so overjoyed that he kisses his cheek. And he kisses him again and again, all over his face as Mr. Graves laughs.

 

And then he plants a firm wet kiss right on Mr. Graves’ lips.

 

Percival’s bushy eyebrows shoot to his hairline but he’s smiling pleasantly when Credence pulls away. Until that smile falters when Credence jumps from his arms in dismay. He begins backing away, alarmed at whatever he sees.

 

Percival whips around, wand ready toward the alley entrance expecting the worst. But there’s nothing. He turns back towards Credence who’s still cowering.

 

“Credence?”

 

Credence is shaking his head back and forth, clutching his arms to his chest.

 

“No,” he whispers.

 

“No, no, no, no.”

 

The paper doves collapse and fall flat to the ground. ‘Witches live among us!’ paving the way for Percival’s feet as he approaches Credence.

 

“Credence, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

 

And Credence suddenly bolts into the alley’s shadows. Graves stands shocked for a moment then hurries to catch up as fast as his injured body will allow.

 

His ears follow the footfalls, but several yards in it becomes impossible to determine Credence’s direction as they echo around him.

 

“ _Nusquam currere_ ” Percival silently casts.

 

Credence’s footprints begin to glow through the dinge and Percival is quick to pursue. He tries to run but all he can manage is a hop skip that causes him to wince with every blow to the unforgiving concrete.

 

After several long minutes the footprints lead Percival to a dead end and a dark and crumpled mess crouched in a doorway.

 

There’s a dark wisp swirling around Credence, but for the most part he is solid.

 

He’s clutching his head but Graves can see that his eyes are red and snot is poring from his nose. He grits his teeth as he tries to keep his sobs silent.

 

“Credence,” Percival tries gently.

 

“What on earth was that? Why did you run? What’s happening?”

 

He doesn’t respond, he just continues to weep and Percival approaches carefully. He waits a little while longer but when nothing is forth coming he slowly and very painfully crouches to Credence’s level.

 

Credence just stares back at him. It’s horrible. He looks so pained and Percival doesn’t know if he should reach out to him or give him space but the waiting is starting to drive him mad.

 

Credence takes a heaving breath.

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he gasps.

 

“Sorry for what, Credence? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

 

“I ruined everything! I-I-I ruined _everything_!” he repeats.

 

He destroyed it all. Everything that he ever wanted, completely ruined because he forgot himself.

 

He’s waiting for the anger, he’s waiting for the disgust to surface on Mr. Graves’ face but all he sees is the wrinkled brow he gives Credence whenever he shows up with new bruises or welts.

 

Maybe he feels sorry for Credence. He knows what he is now and that there’s no possible way he can take Credence with him. It’s pity he’s showing him. He’ll get up in a moment and leave Credence here where he’ll sit, until the setting sun forces him home in disgrace.

 

He doesn’t even care what ma will do to him, whatever it is he deserves it.

 

He’s disgusting. He’s filthy and he put that filthy mark right on Mr. Graves’s lips. Tainting him. There’s a special place in hell for people like him.

 

He’s about ready to burst but he keeps it at bay.

 

“Please sir,” Credence wipes at his face hard with his tattered coat sleeve.

 

“Please take Modesty with you.” He pushes out between sobs.

 

“What was that, Credence?”

 

“Please take her with you! Don’t-don’t punish her because of me. She deserves to go, she deserves to live a happy life!"

 

“Credence, what in the name of Avalon are you talking about? Punish you, why would I punish you?”

 

“I’m filthy! And I’m a freak and-and now you know! I ruined everything and you’ll never want me now and I’m too dirty to live in your world.” He thumps his head hard on the doorframe.

 

“I don’t deserve to be anywhere!” He whispers.

 

It takes Percival a rather long moment to piece all of it together. His main worry it that Credence will work himself completely into the obscurus. He needs to calm him down fast.

 

“Are you upset because you kissed me?”

 

Credence looks back at him like he’s waiting for a blow.

 

“Oh Credence, that’s . . . that’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

Credence just shakes his head ‘no’

 

“I’m a freak. I took your kindness and I twisted it like I do everything and dirtied it.” He sniffles hard.

 

“I’m a freak.” He repeats.

 

“Stop that right now.” Graves commands so forcefully it echoes off the buildings.

 

Credence stops everything including breathing.

 

“I don’t ever want to hear you call yourself that ever again. I mean it.”

 

Percival doesn’t want to be so firm but he’s had quite enough of this. And when they get to that church he’s obliviating every last one of them. Mary Lou twice for good measure. He’ll take her mind so far back she’ll think she’s in kindergarten.

 

“Come out, please? So we can talk. My leg is killing me.” He asks with extended hand.

 

Credence crawls out hesitantly but is quick to help when he sees Mr. Graves struggle to stand up. He has to recover a moment as the blood flows back into his newly attached leg.

 

The remaining threads of the oscurus thankfully recede.

 

“There, that’s better.” He says once he has Credence in his arms again.

 

“Now, let me reassure you that I have no intention of taking your sister with me without you. You have done nothing wrong, Credence. Nothing. You are a good, kind sole and you deserve every bit of happiness. I’d give you the world if I could.”

 

Credence just holds on to Mr. Graves’s coat and won’t look him in the eye.

 

“But I can at least give you the wizarding world. Come on, it’s getting late. Come with me?” Graves has to duck and search for Credence’s slumped face. Eventually the young man responds.

 

“You still want me?” He more mouths than speaks.

 

“Of course I want you, sweet boy. You are so wonderful and special. A miracle, really.”

 

A miracle.

 

Credence can’t believe his ears. A spark of hope rekindles but he keeps it tight inside himself.

 

“But before we go, . . . may I kiss you back?” Graves asks.

 

“What?” Credence is startled.

 

“May I give you a kiss back, sweet boy?”

 

Credence is shocked but he finds himself nodding.

 

And Mr. Graves holds him tight as he leans in and slowly places the softest kiss on Credence’s chapped lips, and then another small kiss and another that he holds in place for as long as he dares. They part with a soft smack.

 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while. I’m afraid you beat me to it, my boy.”

  
Credence takes a shuddering breath.

 

“You see, I am just like you.” He smiles softly.

 

“Am I a freak, Credence?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“No.” He whispers.

 

“Then neither are you.”

 

He wipes at the last of Credence’s tears. The last that he’s ever going to allow to fall from his face.

 

“We’re going now. And when you’re both finally home, I’m going to feed you and keep you warm. And I’m going to kiss you some more.”

 

Credence laughs lightly through his remaining tear that Percival kisses away and it’s the last gesture he receives before leaving the non-maj world forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading. Gradence is my new OTP, I've put the rest on back burners. I have two more ideas that I'm working into fics but I'm a slow mover. :P

**Author's Note:**

> Hope youre enjoying this so far! One more chaper to go.
> 
> This is something I thought of a while ago but after seeing the second movie, it kind of sealed it for me.
> 
> I believe blood magic is taboo in the wizarding world. It's one thing to take someone's hair for a spell, like polyjuice potion. People loose hairs all day long.
> 
> But taking someone's blood or skin or a tooth and using it without consent would be a violation. Just like Voldermort taking Harry's blood.
> 
> Persector in Latin means "follow!" I tried to think of something that would be the equivilant of a tracking bug for wizards. I figured putting the tracking spell in the body would be much more potent and logical than on clothes.
> 
> Bluenose - an excessively puritanical person, a prude.


End file.
